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Authors: Cas Sigers

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BOOK: Chocolate Dove
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Basra quickly showered, dressed and made it downtown to the offices of Lauren's Closet in an hour. By the time Basra got there, the other women were mingling and enjoying coffee. They met the owner and premier designer, who gave them the rules and decorum of being a Lauren's Closet Kitten.
“Background checks will be done so we need everyone to fill out this paperwork,” said Ms. Lauren Hunt, CEO and founder.
Basra filled out the stack of papers, and looked at the calendar. They were doing appearances all over the country, and in Australia, Italy, and England. They had to be available for Fashion Week, and for the spring and fall fashion shows in New York. They were going to be busy. It was a dream come true.
“If there is anything in your past that could come up while you work for us, please let us know now. We do not like surprises.”
Basra panicked. She knew Hollis, Lawson, and some of the other men would never expose Choice, but she couldn't say the same for Adam and Richard. They were crazy and who knew what they were capable of. However, Basra wasn't about to pass on this once-ina-lifetime offer on a probability. She said nothing and passed in her papers.
Later that afternoon all of the ladies were introduced to Jacque Basquez, international photographer. He told the ladies about their shoot that evening and explained how important it was that they do their best.
“It's going to be your first appearance as a Kitten,” he said in his thick Venezuelan accent. “From these pictures the world will decide who will be their favorite Kitten. You want that to be you,” he said, closing in on Basra. “So, I will see you this evening.”
The ladies were fitted for three outfits., but only two would be chosen for the photo shoot. Basra was fitted to wear a purple bra and panties set from the Royal Collection, a light pink jersey camisole and matching underwear from the Cotton Collection, and a black lace-up bustier from the Vamp Collection. Only Basra and one other model was asked to wear all three outfits. Out of the ten girls, there were only two women of color. The other sister was a girl from northern California. She shared with Basra that she'd dropped out of pre-med for this opportunity, and had never been to New York before she was picked from the West Coast auditions.
“My parents told me to find a friend. Someone I could trust because New York was the type of city that can swallow you up,” she shared with Basra. “I'm Mackenzie.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
Basra immediately connected with her. Her eyes were wide and full of excitement for things to come. It took Basra back to the moment she first set foot in New York. Basra knew instantly that she was going to be Mackenzie's big sister. They could watch out for each other and this way she'd have someone to hold her accountable.
“Your parents were not joking. I'm Basra. You remind me of myself a couple of years ago. Let me be the first to tell you about New York... .”
Chapter 21
Over the next three weeks, Basra's schedule was filled with interviews, fittings, workouts, and all things fashion. She'd gotten her hair blown out and cut so that it fell just below her ears. It was cute but now with the cut she had to keep it styled because it was too short to stay in a ponytail. She and Mackenzie were looking at an apartment to share. Since she only had two more weeks left on her place in Brooklyn, and Mackenzie was staying with family friends, they decided on getting a small two-bedroom in the city. Basra loved her place in Brooklyn but she needed a fresh start. She hadn't seen Richard but she continued to feel his creepy presence every time she stepped from her front door. She was sure he was still lingering, but was too crafty to get caught. She desperately wanted to eliminate the possibility of him showing up. She hadn't spoken to Grayson since the day she returned. He came to the apartment one day while she wasn't there and left the keys. However, his sister Kaamil had called twice. Since her next few days were fairly light, she returned her call and they made plans to meet for lunch.
Kaamil walked into Freemans wearing a sharp grey pantsuit and heels. Basra was bundled in a lightweight parka and jeans. She had distinct brown Calvin Klein shades and her neck and head were partially covered in a pink eternity scarf. Kaamil almost walked past her.
“Hey there,” Basra called out as Kaamil approached.
“Basra!”
She sat and immediately began chatting up a storm. “Look at you, acting all incognito.”
“It's cold. Aren't you cold?” she asked.
“No, this is perfect weather.”
“Well my blood hasn't quite gotten used to it yet,” Basra said, removing her shades.
“I'm so glad you called me back. I spoke to Gray and he said you guys were separated and I thought you might not want to talk to me because of him.”
“No, it's not like that. I've been very busy.”
“That's what I hear. You are Kitten! Grrrrw!” Kaamil said, clawing her hands in the air. “That's kind of why I'm here. I don't want to abuse my in-law privileges but Richelle and I really want to come to the winter show. I'm not sure how many tickets they give you. But I would love if you could make that happen. Did I ever tell you that I really wanted to be a designer? I just went into dentistry because I knew it would make my parents happy if I became a doctor—”
Basra knew Kaamil would keep rambling so she interrupted her. “Did Gray say anything else about me?”
“No, but I told him that you were great for him and whatever he did, he needed to apologize.”
“Actually it was me,” explained Basra. “I wasn't completely honest about some things in my past.”
“So what? It's always the man's fault. Unless of course there's two women, then it's always the stud's fault.”
Their salads came and Kaamil continued to talk. In thirty minutes, Basra knew her background, her partner's background, how they met, her hopes and dreams and her future plans. She barely talked about Grayson and so Basra didn't bring him into the conversation.
“I will do the best I can on getting those tickets. How many do you need?”
“Two, three if you can.”
The two ladies wrapped up lunch and walked down the street to grab cabs. While walking, a bus with a Lauren's Closet ad stopped on the corner. Basra was one of the four girls whose image appeared larger than life wrapped around the city bus.
“There you are!” yelped Kaamil. Basra smiled wide as Kaamil gave her a hug. “I really hope you and Gray work things out.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Kaamil trotted down the street waving and pointing at the bus with glee. Basra laughed, and then turned to look at the bus that was pulling off. She watched her image roll by, seemingly in slow motion. She took a deep breath and exhaled a “thank you.” Basra continued to look until the bus was out of sight.
Her entire next day was spent at rehearsal for the show, which was that weekend. The theme was fantasy and Basra was modeling a total of five outfits. Though she'd been in several fashion shows, this one, at Lincoln Center, was the biggest to date. The fashion director was a perfectionist who insisted on running the show until everything flowed effortlessly. They rehearsed changing the clothing, took pictures of the varying hair and makeup styles, and walked the runway for almost two hours. Basra had never worked that hard at anything. She and Mackenzie were bushed and hungry. Both had been on a diet for the last two weeks eating only salads, veggies, and grilled meats.
“I want pizza,” said Mackenzie as they left rehearsal. “It's not like I'm going to gain five pounds if I eat a slice of cheese pizza, or two slices even.”
“Let's go get pizza then,” coincided Basra.
“You're not supposed to agree,” Mackenzie said.
“We've been disciplined, but sometimes you have just say ‘what the hell' and go for it. The show is tomorrow. Let's go get pizza.”
Mackenzie didn't argue with her, and so the girls bundled up and walked outside. They both took deep whiffs of the New York air and simultaneously said, “that way,” referring to the closest pizza shop. As they headed for their doughy delight, a woman came rushing from rehearsal with a vase of flowers.
“Ms. Sadiq, Ms. Sadiq. These are for you,” she said, handing Basra the flowers.
“Oh, how sweet,” Mackenzie expressed.
“They were delivered while you were rehearsing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He asked if you were here rehearsing and then asked where the restroom was, but left the flowers at the desk.”
Mackenzie grabbed the card. “I bet they're from Grayson,” she said with a smile.
Basra snatched the card back and read: “‘You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.'” She smiled. “I haven't spoken to him, but that sounds like Grayson.”
“It may sound like him, but it's Nietzsche,” said Mackenzie.
Basra stopped so abruptly that she nearly fell over. The vase slid from her hand, but luckily Mackenzie kept it from falling on the pavement. “What did you say?”
“That quote is from Friedrich Nietzsche, he's a—”
“I know who he is,” fretted Basra. She grabbed Mackenzie's hand and moved faster through the crowd.
“What's wrong? Why are you going so fast?”
Basra looked around the streets before walking in for pizza. She scurried in and took a seat in a booth in the back. Mackenzie sat and stared at her. “Are you okay?” she asked just before Basra picked up the flowers and tossed them in the trashcan. “Nooo. Why did you do that?”
“Those were not from Grayson,” Basra said while keeping one eye toward the front of the restaurant.
“Then who were they from?”
“I don't want to freak you out, but I have a stalker.” Basra called Lawson on her cell. Thankfully, he answered.
“Hey, Lawson, I have to hurry. I know you know a lot of people, and I need some help. I have a stalker. I think he's dangerous but I don't want involve the police because I met him through, you know ... Do you know anyone private I could call?” Basra listened to Lawson and took down a phone number. He suggested that she still make the police aware of the situation but until then he'd refer her to a bodyguard friend, who used work with the CIA.
“Stalkers are dangerous. They kill people,” Mackenzie said with very frightened eyes. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes, he is the only one who would send me a Nietzsche quote.”
“Who is he?”
“I should call the police.”
“You think?” Mackenzie cynically commented.
“What would you ladies like?”
“Two slices of cheese pizza,” said Mackenzie.
“Make that three,” added Basra.
“You're cheating.”
“I have someone trying to kill me,” said Basra.
“That's not funny. I'm calling the police.” Mackenzie pulled out her phone but Basra took it away.
“I'll call. I promise.”
“Better yet, we're going there to fill out a report as soon as we leave here.”
Mackenzie and Basra went to the police station on Chambers and filed a report. Basra said that they were introduced by a mutual friend and went on two dates. But she didn't have his last name or any other pertinent information other than a description. She filled out as much as she could and then left. On their way back to the new apartment, Basra suggested that she and Mackenzie get a hotel for the night.
“Do you think he knows where we live? Oh God, I don't want to die before our show in Japan!”
“We're not dying before the show or after. We're just taking precautions. I will have a bodyguard tomorrow and we'll go get back to the apartment in the morning.”
 
 
The models' call for the 7:00
P.M.
show was noon. Most of the hair and makeup was elaborate and the director was going to have a stroke if the show didn't start on time. Basra's bodyguard, Xavier, met them at the hotel at nine that morning. Lawson had already given him the rundown and so he gave the girls his set of rules and got started. He rode with them in a cab back to the apartment and waited while they got their things. He went to Lincoln Center, and remained backstage with Basra until the show started.
It was complete mayhem backstage with dozens of racks, makeup artists, and stylists. Close to 5:00
P.M.
Basra had her hair done and was sitting in the lounge drinking a Diet Coke. Mackenzie's nerves were a bundled mess. She'd never done a big fashion show, as all of her work had been print. She rolled off a series of scenarios.
“What if I fall?”
“Get back up,” Basra replied.
“What if my bra comes off?”
“Flash them and keep walking.”
“What if they start booing?”
“Give them the finger.”
“What if—”
“No more. You'll be fine. I'm nervous too, but you can't keep asking these questions.”
Basra was still very unnerved by yesterday's events. She'd even called Grayson just to make sure he hadn't sent her the flowers, but he didn't answer. She didn't want to make Mackenzie any more nervous than she already was, but her gut told her that he was going to show up. By 6:00
P.M.
, everyone was done with hair and makeup and doing finishing touches on any wardrobe changes. The girls were excited and ready. This was not just the winter show and holiday collection, this would be the introduction of the new Kittens. It was a huge thing in the world of fashion. Basra's phone lit up and it was Kaamil. They'd just gotten to the show and wanted to know if she could see her before it started.
“No. I'm already in hair and makeup. We can't come out and no one is allowed in back. I will make sure I see you after the show.” Basra hung up, left the lounge, and went back to her station.
“I need to touch up your lips,” said her makeup artist.
Basra loved the heavy dramatic makeup. She looked in the mirror and made model faces. Then she noticed a card on her table.
“What's this?” she asked.
“I don't know. Hold your head still.”
Basra slid the card from the table and tried to read it but couldn't lower her face. She held it up to her eye level, and nearly peed on herself when she read the quote. “‘One should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly.'” Basra jumped up from her chair. “Who put this on my table?” she yelled. “Who put this here?”
Mackenzie rushed over and to calm Basra. “He's here!” she yelled. “He's here.” Everyone was confused as Mackenzie rushed to the entrance of the back and got Xavier. Finally, the director came to the back to assess the commotion. Xavier pulled the director aside and explained the severity of the situation. Basra was allowed to peep out of the back and see if she saw Richard within the gathering crowd. She didn't see him but that didn't calm her. However, it was ten minutes to show time, and they weren't about to stop the fashion show on the assumption that she had a possible stalker, who had never posed a verbal threat.
Basra was so nervous her ankles trembled. When it was her time to walk out on stage, she almost fainted. But after several deep breaths, she got on the runway and strutted her stuff down the twenty-five-foot catwalk. When Basra got to the end, she wanted to look out into the audience but she feared that she might see Richard, and so she kept her focus straight ahead. By her fourth outfit, her stride was back in motion. Her smile was vibrant and she actually caught Kaamil from her peripheral. Next to Kaamil was Grayson. His sight lit a spark inside her body and she smiled so wide that she let out a tiny yelp. Their eyes connected and he nodded with a small grin to acknowledge her thrill. Basra put an extra twist in her sashay back down and rushed to change into her final outfit. During her last strut down the catwalk, she immediately caught eyes with Grayson. She glanced about the room, but every four steps, she was drawn to him. Basra got to the end of the runway and posed. She glanced over at Grayson, and smiled. He was like a mirage. She couldn't stop staring. Finally, she turned her head and glanced in the opposite direction and that was when she saw a figure standing in a black hat and matching trench. It was Richard. As though they were cemented to the stage, her feet wouldn't move as she tried to turn. Richard stood up, and pulled out an object that resembled a pistol. The crowd was dark, and Basra wasn't sure. Still she tried to form the word gun, but before the “g” formed in the back of her throat. He lifted it up and Bang!
BOOK: Chocolate Dove
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